


Search and Rescue

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: Tony inhales slowly only to have to fight down the instinctive urge to sneeze at the damp, musty scent that fills his nose. Ugh. Can't the bad guys ever spring for a decent lair?Tony gets captured. Steve gets mad. Clint's just along for the ride.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 209
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	Search and Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hundredthousands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hundredthousands/gifts).



> Written for HT for MTH 2019. I used your list of h/c prompts and then... kind of went wild with them. Hope you enjoy, dear!!
> 
> Thanks also to JehBeeEh in the PotS server for the beta job. Love you!

Tony really should be used to waking up in the dark, alone and in pain. He'd thought those days were over after the Avengers had made the Tower their home, but they've only gotten more frequent somehow. He doesn't open his eyes right away, trying to catalog his injuries before he even considers taking stock of his situation. He starts at his feet, wiggling his toes. He rotates his ankles and winces — okay, right ankle is at least twisted; hopefully not broken, though. And they're bound too; great. He bends his knees one at a time, relieved when there's little more than a muscle twinge from disuse and being stuck in the same position for god knows how long. He exhales, relieved, only for the relief to turn to concern. Fuck. Ribs aren't supposed to feel like that.

Tony inhales slowly only to have to fight down the instinctive urge to sneeze at the damp, musty scent that fills his nose. Ugh. Can't the bad guys ever spring for a decent lair?

A quick tug confirms that his hands are cuffed together behind his back, and, from the rattling sound behind him, to the wall as well. His right shoulder, elbow, and wrist protest the motion. Tony knows this is the point where he should be grateful to his past self for his obsession with becoming ambidextrous, but instead all he can feel is irritated that he's in this situation in the first place. This really is about the worst spot he's been stuck in since he joined up with the Avengers. He thinks he'd be a lot more concerned about what this is going to look like to the team if he wasn't too busy being concerned about whether his ribs are bruised or cracked. Well. This is going to be a fun escape.

If he manages it, anyway. That's going to be the challenge. Because he's pretty damn sure that that's the sound of one of his captors making their way toward him and, oh, yep, that's the keys to whatever room they've put him in. The guard unlocks something behind Tony, presumably the chain latching him to the wall if the way he's unceremoniously dragged to his feet is any indication. He thinks he might black out from the pain for a bit, because between one breath and the next he goes from inside the cell to a dingy hallway. Tony bites his tongue hard enough that he tastes blood. The pain is sharp and bright, enough to get his wits about him as the guard drags him to whoever it is that had ordered the hit on him.

Because that's what it was, he realizes. A straight up hit. Fuck, one of the goons had actually clocked him over the head with a gun Tony had already disabled. What the fuck kind of goons are his enemies sending after him now that _that_ seemed like a good idea?

The guard hauls Tony to his feet, blessedly ignoring the tiny whimper Tony lets out when that pulls on both his shoulder and his ribs. Tony pries his eyes open all the way, wincing as what feels like dried blood on his face pulls at the motion. Fuck, he might have a head injury too. That is the absolute last thing he needs right now.

The guard drags him into the room and practically throws Tony down into a chair at one end of the long table. Tony takes all of three seconds to let the pain surge and then fade before he opens his eyes to face down his captor.

Okay, so maybe he takes closer to five seconds. Sue him, he's in pain.

Then he gets a good look at who's across the table from him and he can only be proud that he doesn't pass out from the way all the blood drains from his face.

Oh. Shit.

* * *

Steve knows he isn't thinking completely straight. It's not that he doesn't think Tony can protect himself, it’s that he so often just _doesn't_.

He's pacing the length of the quinjet. Bruce had already asked him to stop, but every time Steve sits down he starts tapping his feet on the floor or his fingers on the shield and Bruce says that's worse. So instead Bruce is in the back corner of the jet facing the wall with his headphones on. Steve would be embarrassed that he can't control himself except that this is really just par for the course when it comes to Tony. Everyone should be used to it by now. Goodness knows they all spend enough time teasing him about his relationship with Tony when the genius isn't around; they can certainly put up with him pacing the jet.

Well. Except Bruce. He generally avoids that sort of teasing. Steve really needs to thank him for putting up with all this when they get home.

But they have to get Tony before they can get home, and that really needs to be at the forefront of Steve's mind. He's already privately asked Natasha to be on point today. They all know Steve's attention is shit when Tony's in danger, and she really is the best choice for his 2IC. Well, other than Tony, but Tony's the one at risk here and—

"Cap," Clint says, his voice resonating danger from where he's sitting next to Natasha in the cockpit, "even if you're not going to drive Bruce crazy in the next five minutes you sure as shit are going to drive _me_ crazy. Sit. Your ass. Down."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, but he catches sight of the way Natasha's shoulders are pulled up ever so slightly toward her ears and he thinks better of it. "Right," he says instead. "Right, I. Yeah. Okay."

He sits down heavily across from Thor. Thor has his head tipped back against the wall of the jet, and even if his face isn't perfectly calm, Steve can tell he's keeping his wits about him a hell of a lot better than Steve is. Steve exhales sharply and tries to find the same peace that Thor and Bruce seem to have achieved. He knows it's different for them. Knows this isn't as big of a deal for them as it is for him. He's the only one on the plane that is literally in love with Tony, and he thinks they should really be cutting him a little more slack than this, but—

But that isn't going to get Tony home safe.

Steve's body goes still at that realization. His panic and worry aren't going to bring Tony home safe. The only thing that is going to bring Tony home safe is a Steve at the top of his game, ready to do whatever it takes to bring Tony home.

He can do that.

He can.

He just has to decide to.

* * *

Clint would be lying if he said he wasn't a little freaked out by the way Cap suddenly goes silent in the back of the jet. He lets himself look back and check on him just to be sure that he hasn't done something stupid like jump out of the back of the jet to try to save Stark himself. Cap's still there, thankfully, but there's something about the blank way he's staring across the jet that makes Clint's skin crawl. There's an eerie sort of stillness about him, as though he's been carved from marble or sculpted from bronze. He's Steve, yes, but he's nothing like Steve at the same time. Steve's usually a bundle of nervous, untapped energy when Stark isn't in reach. Even when Stark's just down in the lab, Steve's always in motion. It would be sickeningly adorable if it weren't for the fact that Stark seemed to be able to sense when the nervous energy is at its worst and comes to sit or stand or simply exist near enough to Steve that the energy starts to bleed away and out of the captain. It would be adorable if it weren't so cliché.

But this. This is nothing like that. This is Steve stone still with his eyes blank and empty in a way that Clint has never seen in him.

Fuck. This is bad.

Clint doesn't elbow Nat to get her attention but it's a very near thing. Better to just keep an eye on Cap himself until they land and then he can let Nat know. Besides, it's going to be fine, right?

Right. Of course it is.

* * *

Tony's only ever seen pictures of Johann Schmidt, and even then only because he'd wanted to know as much about Cap as he could as a boy. Even so, and even if his memory isn't as good as Cap's, Tony knows exactly who it is that's sitting across the table from him.

Better not to let on about that, though.

"So. The infamous Iron Man. Laid low by little old me. What a surprise."

Tony swallows the need to snarl at the man.

"And so stoic. I have to say, this is not at all what I was expecting from you, Iron Man."

Tony stares at him, keeping his poker face in place. Better to let the man monologue himself into a corner than to push too hard and get nothing.

"Well then. I suppose this is the point when you expect me to start monologuing. Tell you what I'm planning and assure you that you have no chance of escaping, let alone beating me." Schmidt looks up at Tony, something shrewd and calculating in his expression. "Am I wrong?"

Tony doesn't respond.

Schmidt nods. "Very well, then." He waves a hand, and the guard beside Tony wrenches him to his feet by his bad arm. Tony doesn't have time to stop the gasp of pain that he lets loose. "See to it that he goes another round with our friends and leave him in the cell for another few hours. He'll talk, sooner or later."

Tony doesn't need to ask who their friends are. The implication is telling enough. He holds Schmidt's gaze far longer than he probably should, knowing that it's all he has left to show his defiance. He won't give in, no matter what Schmidt and his cronies too. He won't.

He can't.

* * *

Steve isn't so much expecting the quinjet to get shot at as they start to make it into enemy airspace. It's more that something in him knew it was inevitable. That someone who really had a bone to pick had gotten to Tony this time. Whether that bone is with the team or with Tony in particular remains to be seen, but Steve isn't above doing whatever it takes to find out.

So, when the jet gets shot out of the air, he's more prepared for this than he thinks he probably should be. He chucks parachutes at Nat and Clint and rouses Bruce with all the care that is required before handing him off to Thor and then they're abandoning the plane to land in the expansive Taiwanese forests that surround what must be the base that they're holding Tony in.

When he lands a good five hundred yards from anyone else, Steve almost decides to take off on foot toward the base in question. There's no time to wait for Bruce's human speed or for Natasha's meticulous planning. He needs to get to Tony _now_ and if he doesn't—

Steve forces himself to calm down and refocus on the challenge at hand. It does Tony no good for Steve to go in there, guns blazing, only to be taken down before he can even get to Tony. He needs to wait for his team. He needs to be patient.

He isn't sure being patient has ever been this hard.

* * *

Clint doesn't let his relief show when Cap is there when they all converge on Nat's coordinates a half mile from the base they'd tracked Tony to. He wouldn't have been surprised if Cap had gone off half-cocked to try to save Tony on his own. It would certainly be in character.

But he hadn't and he's right there, ready to back Nat's play, and Clint's more relieved than he thought he would be. 

It's an easy enough thing to find a poorly guarded entrance, make their way inside, and start dismantling the resistance in short order. The lackeys don't move with any sort of cohesion, and Clint wonders how exactly they got the drop on Stark in the first place if they're this sloppy. But that's a question to tease Stark about later. Right now, they need to find him first.

It takes the better half of twenty minutes to make their way to the command center of the base and start planning how exactly they're going to get Tony out. So far no alarms seem to have been sent up, but it's only a matter of time before whoever's in charge figures out that they survived the crash and made it here.

Nat's words cut through Clint's worry. "Fifth floor, east side. That's where they've got him." Nat turns to look at the team. "Clint, Thor, you two go get him."

"What if he needs medical attention?" Bruce interrupts. "I need to be there."

Nat meets him with a steely gaze. "We don't know what condition he's in right now. We can't risk unleashing the Hulk and losing you before we can get him taken care of. Understood?"

Bruce looks reluctant, but nods regardless.

"Cap, I need you to get to the center of the base. Keep our big bad talking and do whatever it takes to keep him off balance. He's not going to be easy to take down, so I'll get Thor to you as soon as we have Tony free and clear."

"You know Tony's going to want to fight." Steve is staring at Nat as her face twists. "You think he won't. What aren't you telling me?"

Natasha pauses for a moment before she brings the image up on the screens. "I'm not telling you who's in charge."

Steve goes pale. "You've gotta be shitting me."

* * *

One of the guards shakes Tony awake. He has to stifle a groan at the way the motion jostles his ribs. They've usually waited for him to come around naturally, so this implies that something's changed. Tony can only hope it means the team has come for him, and much sooner than he would have expected.

The guard drops him off in the same room as last time, with Schmidt sitting in front of him with the same blank expression on his face.

"You will tell me what I want to know, Iron Man."

Tony raises an eyebrow, his first concession to the man.

"I have been watching you. I know how highly the Captain thinks of you. I know what you mean to him. You will tell me his weakness."

Tony doesn't let the fear show on his face. "What makes you think you have any power here?"

"Because," Schmidt says as he leans into Tony's space. "Your little friends are all here, and I can take them out with one word."

"Not without taking out your people too."

Schmidt laughs. "Clearly you don't remember your history lessons as well as you should. Don't you know? Cut off one head, two more shall take its place."

Tony stares at Schmidt. It's clear that he's not pulling his punches, that he really will take the whole place down if he thinks it will mean taking out the Avengers. Tony can't afford to give Schmidt anything, but if the other option is to lose the team, then it's no choice at all. Tony swallows down his uncertainty and bows his head. He's ready to tell Schmidt everything when a clang resonates from the door behind him. It's an all-too-familiar sound, and Tony isn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

He looks back up at Schmidt, finding the words all too easily. "Well, I have good news and bad news for you." The clang rings out again and Tony sits up a little straighter. "The good news is that you already seem to have figured out his weakness." _Clang._ "The bad news is that he's already here and ready to kick your ass."

Tony's so confident in his boyfriend that he doesn't even think to worry about the danger of revealing even this to his captor until it’s too late.

* * *

Steve's fully expecting Schmidt to be in the middle of the room waiting for him when he finishes knocking the door down. That's what Nat told him to expect, and that's what the whole path here has been leading to. That part isn't a surprise.

What he's not expecting is for him to be holding Tony in a chokehold with a gun pressed to his temple.

Steve feels the breath still in his chest at the tableau in front of him. As his mind tries to catch up with what he's seeing, Clint's voice sounds in his ear. "Guys, Tony isn't in here."

"Yeah," Steve says into the comms out of the side of his mouth. "I got that."

That's all he needs to say for Nat to start issuing orders for the team to start converging on Steve's location. He ignores the chatter and turns back to the issue at hand. Tony, and whether or not he can survive a bullet to the head at close range. Steve's pretty sure he knows the answer to that.

"What do you want, Schmidt?" Steve asks, voice low and dangerous.

"Want?" Schmidt laughs. "I already have what I want. You, completely at my mercy."

"You don't have a damn thing on me."

"I have your lover's life in the palm of my hand. What more could I possibly need or want to take you down?"

Steve stills. No one outside the Tower is supposed to know what Tony is to him. If Schmidt knows, that means he's either been spying on them in the Tower, or that Tony got a little too cocky.

From the wince Tony gives at Schmidt's words, Steve's pretty sure it's the latter.

"Be that as it may, you're just putting yourself at risk if you kill him. The whole team will be ready to come for you if you hurt a hair on his head, and you can be damn sure I'll beat you to a pulp before they even get a chance."

"But he'll still be dead. That's all that matters to me."

Natasha had told him to keep Schmidt talking. Those orders haven't changed. She must have a plan. If Steve can just distract him long enough—

"And you may get your revenge on me, but I'll still have destroyed all that matters to you. All that you stood for. That's the best victory for me."

Steve grits his teeth, fighting down the surge of anger at those words, and forces himself to speak. "You'll still be dead and I'll still be alive. You really think that's any kind of victory?"

"It's the only victory that matters." Spittle flies from Schmidt's mouth as he speaks. "You, beaten and broken is all I ever could have asked for and more. If I can take this from you, I will know that I have done what I need to do."

Steve meets Tony's eyes. Tony looks terrified and apologetic and desperate all at once. "Steve, you have to get out of here." Schmidt pushes the gun more firmly against Tony's skull when Tony speaks. Tony ignores it. "You have to stay safe. Please. You can't let this maniac and his bullshit plans take you out. You're too strong for that. You're too important."

Steve's stomach twists at Tony's words. He's used to hearing the self-deprecation and minimization of his role from his lover, but it still cuts deeper than Steve expects. He knows Tony doesn't think his contributions are worth much, but Steve knows better. The whole team does.

Before Steve can frame his rebuttal, Steve sees something move behind a vent covering. The flash of purple is all he needs to know exactly what's going on. He doesn't look away from Schmidt or Tony, giving no indication that anything has changed. He glances at Schmidt once more before looking back down at Tony. "You're important too, Tony. I'm not leaving here without taking my shot to bring you with me." Tony's eyes widen in understanding, and Steve sees him tense almost imperceptibly in Schmidt's grasp. Steve sees an arrowhead poke out from the vent shaft but doesn't look away from Tony. "I'm not leaving."

The arrow must be one of the tranquilizer arrows Clint has come to fancy lately. Schmidt goes rigid and Tony knocks the gun away from his head before he can fire. Schmidt drops like a stone, and Steve's across the room getting between him and Tony before anything more can put him in danger. The room is still and silent for a moment, and Steve doesn't move from his protective position in front of Tony until Clint has dropped from the vent and started prodding at Schmidt with his toe.

All at once, Steve feels the fight go out of him. He turns to Tony and wraps him up in a hug that has Tony gasping in what might be pain. Steve doesn't care in that moment. He'd come too close to losing Tony. Having him is all that matters now.

* * *

"That should do it," Clint says triumphantly. "We can keep him tranq'ed and load him up on the quinjet if you want to bring him back with us. Or we can have Nat drop him out the back of the jet into the North Pacific on our way back to the States." He turns around to get the team leaders' opinions only to find Steve cradling Tony against him.

"Twisted ankle," Tony's saying, "and a possible concussion. They fucked up my arm too. Oh, and the ribs."

"Bruised or cracked?"

"I think they're just bruised. Doesn't make them any more fun to deal with, though."

Steve laughs, but it sounds strained. "No, I can't imagine it does."

Tony's face softens and he reaches up to pull Steve in close against him. "Hey. Steve. I'm okay. You got to me in time."

"Not soon enough to keep them from roughing you up."

"We're super heroes, honey. We're always gonna be a little roughed up."

Steve sighs and leans in to press his forehead against Tony's. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No. No, I imagine it doesn't."

Clint gives himself a moment to revel in their closeness. They've always held the team together the best they can, and there's no reason to intervene in their moment just yet. He'll yell at Steve to lug Red Skull back to the quinjet in a few minutes.


End file.
